No room....

Oh, and just a thought...in the 28 days of February, we turned away 55 people, 47 men and 8 women, on 108 occasions.

Even though we now have two and half times the beds that we had before we moved in September.

Because we have severe weather provision, at least most will have had a billet on a chair or sofa at one of the hostels. But what happens when this ends on 31 March? Because I don't think everyone will just go away on 1 April.

It's easily the worst part of the job. We all hate it.

Inspection and mayhem

Had our Supporting People validation visit yesterday. Bit more worried about it than usual, as we've had so many changes recently, and now I have to delegate so much, so I don't feel as sure as I did about the quality of the work done. Not that I'm so wonderful, but at least I know what I do and how I do it.

The staff on duty were a fairly new young member of staff, still in his probationary period, and a relief person. So I guess if they pass muster, we must be doing something right. A peer reviewer – someone who was homeless herself – came to talk to the residents, and find out what they really think of us. It's a process I think was long overdue, and I completely support. Even if it's more likely to show up our flaws. Because it is, really. After all, we don't exist so I can have a job and a salary, welcome though they are, or so that our organisation can have more services...we exist solely for the people whose heads are on the pillows. If we aren't doing it for them, we shouldn't be doing it at all. And if it isn't doing it for them, we need to get off our butts and change so that it is.

We find out in a week or two what the upshot was.

At least the two officers saw what we're dealing with, several residents too inebriated to make much sense. Two of them fell our earlier in the day, one punched the other twice. Two ex-residents also arrived, to collect a couple of bags, and they were trying to help sort the situation out. Our senior took the main culprit off into an interview room, defused things. We then got the other one to go upstairs to his room, with his girlfriend. Both still chuntering, in the way you do when you've had too much sherbet, as they say.

We're very aware of the issue of alcohol, as I said last time. We've now got eight chronic dependent drinkers. Still an eight month wait for treatment. Not higher philosophy to work out that it's a recipe for mayhem. Especially as they can't drink on our premises. Or in the only day centre. Or in the alcohol-free zone which covers all the areas in between us and the day centre where people go for their meals. As they ask me, So where can we go then?

We have put several measures in place. A poster - ! - requested by a partner agency, litter picks at visible times of day. We've requested increased police presence at crucial times, commuter home and work times. And constant vigilance, going out to stop people shouting and bawling and upsetting the neighbours.

Got an advisory group meeting, which includes partner agencies, so now doubt this will be big on the agenda.

I'm on leave now for two weeks. Interesting to see when I get back what's changed. Maybe even 24-hour opening and managed drinking on the premises....

The demon drink
It's 4am, and I've just finished a proposal for us to open the planned alcohol dependent unit – aka wet unit – a year early. Originally there was to be a wet unit when we moved into our new building six months ago, but it's got to go out to tender and be part of the current review of alcohol services, and will now open in April 2010. All very sensible, but...
We're finding a lot of problems managing the serious drinkers, especially as we only have funding to open 19 hours a day. Oddly enough, this – and the fact that we can't cope with drinking on the premises – means that the most problematic people are out on the streets causing and absorbing chaos, which they then bring back indoors. Oh, and the neighbours, local residents and businesses, aren't wildly thrilled either. This is not really a surprise to us, as we've seen the trend for a couple of years, alcohol use increasing. Two-thirds of our residents right now are drinkers of one sort or another (entrenched alcoholic, binge drinker, occasional drinker). It seems to have caught some of the statutory agencies off guard. Maybe they thought we'd find a way to magic a service out of thin air, or that the individuals concerned would just be obliging and not cause problems until the service was in place.
And why the government doesn't just ban strong lager and cider is beyond me. There's an acknowledged problem with alcohol use in this country. Some countries don't seem to sell Skol Stupid or Synthetic Pseudo-Cider that's never seen an apple and is more addictive...why can't we just outlaw them? At least the extra volume of liquid necessary might reduce the overall intoxication levels, or slow down progress to collapse.
When I started working at the night shelter, drug use was a major issue. I've seen it go down, as methadone programmes take away people's need to use crime to fund their habit. Some people then turn to drink, to replace drugs, because their underlying issues haven't been addressed. Some just get into alcohol. I believe that a lot of substance use is caused by abuse in the person's early years, the Baby P's of this world, if they survive, often turn to drugs or alcohol to cope. In much the same way that many workers go home and have a drink or two....and there just isn't enough capacity in the mental health services, or primary care, to fund therapy for everyone who needs it. So a lot of our residents continue as flotsam and jetsam, buffeted by every wave, thrown here and there by each event happening at that moment, not able to control their own lives. Some just have their heads above water, some are not quite sinking but not quite swimming either. We're just a life-raft, a temporary respite, with the chance to climb painfully out onto dry land, eventually, if you persevere, and wait, and struggle.

Spent the day working out how to reconcile what the residents want and need with what funders require, and what the city needs strategically. Luckily I've always enjoyed this sort of creativity.

I do passionately believe that stratgic planners should stay in touch with the front line. I feel I couldn't do the strategic part of my job if I didn't listen to and work with our residents regularly.

Sad that I am, I quite like immuring myself in the monitoring and admin. Figures, unlike people, don't answer back. Don't introduce new problems. Stay where they are put. Do what they're told. Sometimes I just need that, the calm instead of the chaos.

Inflammatory people but no fire

Sunday 8 March 2009

Called in to the hostel last night halfway through watching Queen Victoria's Men, fire alarm going off. Again. This time an unnamed resident has pressed the red box – which I still think of as a break glass box, even though now there is no glass (and anyway it wasn't glass but perspex). Before I even set foot in the building one of the residents is wanting to shout at me. Tell him the fire alarm is a priority and go up to the top floor. Try to remember how to reset the box. I was shown but can't remember, so I have to work it out. Fiddle about unprofitably for what seems like ages, send one of the two senior who are expectantly watching my fumbles, to look for more info in one of the four big fat manuals on the building manager's desk. No joy, so I ring the emergency number. We can't have the main doors wide open all night, which they will be if we can't reset the alarm, which won't reset while the red box thinks there's a fire. They promise to ring back within 35 minutes. Maybe they aim for half an hour but give themselves the extra five minutes so we'll be pleased that they've been quicker? Then straight after I work out how to reset the box, sod's law.

On the way back downstairs, stop a panel beeping because someone's gone out of the fire exit and set off another different alarm system. Fire alarm still shows a trigger, so despatch a member of staff to check the bedrooms, looks like someone's been smoking in their room, which they shouldn't do. Turns out it was a candle under the detector. Confiscate the candle.

Then back into reception, reset the fire alarm, satisfying to see the main doors close. Don't get me started on the doors...

Then turn to the Ranting Resident, and attempt, foolishly, to reason with him and explain. First line of defence here is to listen until people run out of steam, but RR doesn't stop at one Rant, he's got several that segue into one another seamlessly. First, he is irate that he doesn't have to sign in any more,and wrongly, thinks that the staff now won't know whether he is on the premises or not, and that he'll fry in his bed if there's a fire. Try to explain that the Government Man who came to visit wants residents to feel secure, and thinks that signing in every day makes people think they only have the bed for one night. In practice it makes no difference, only now staff write IN, or NIGHT OUT, next to the person's name. We struggle to keep up with the constant in and out anyway, so if there was a fire, all we'd do is look on the board to see which keys are hanging up, indicating that the resident is out. Also explain to RR that all the doors in the building – which is brand new – are 30-minute fire doors, and that provided he can't see the fire, he'll be safe for half an hour. And the fire station is only 10 minutes away. RR then changes tack, starts shouting, It's been more than half an hour and the fire engine isn't here. I point out that we didn't actually call them, we followed our procedure and checked first to see if there is a fire. RR immediately inflamed by this, and accuses us of playing fast and loose with his safety, and insists he's going straight to our head office in the morning. On Sunday....hmmm.... Vainly try to explain that we now have the same system as all the other hostels, but he still isn't pacified, so I just refuse to go round the loop again. Suspect his alcohol intake has affected his ability to listen and understand.

Back into the office, check the night staff are happy. Report for fire log. Off home again, but RR is now trying to stoke up another resident. Luckily, she's a bit more with it and can understand what I'm saying, and ignores him.

Not often being on call means physically going in, but the odd time that it does can be entertaining.